Death or the lack thereof
I went to a life-celebration this weekend. A friend's 27 year old brother had a heart attack, slipped into a coma and died six weeks later. There was no "real" reason for this to happen, he was absurdly fit from a lifetime of martial arts, full of joie de vivre and packed to the gills with charisma, good looks and loving friends. He was one of the golden ones, a bright star in our benighted world.
I've never been to a funeral outside of a church ceremony so I don't know what other funerals are like. There was no body, Alexis had been cremated two weeks earlier. The hall was packed to the rafters, probably well over four hundred people were there. There had already been ceremonies with hundreds of people in Vancouver. Now it was his home town mourning his loss and applauding his life. Instead of the moment of silence they had a moment of noise, because he was just like that. Blazing larger than life.
After all the inadequate cliches and platitudes we hear around death, the ceremony was as fresh, cool and invigorating as a blast of mountain air. His life was remembered through the experiences of family, friends, and his colleagues at the radio station where he hosted a razor-edge sharp and funky show on "finding the extraordinary in the ordinary". His life was celebrated and appreciated. Songs were sung, drummers drummed, and everyone wept.
I've written eulogies for myself as part of self-help exercises, written as if I had died of ripe old age. Who would I be by then? What would I have done? The purpose of writing one is to energize people into dreaming and setting goals, even if they seem outrageous. After hearing about this young man, I thought "I hope I do half as much by the time I'm fifty" and "I hope there are more than two people at my funeral" and "Why do we do this AFTER the biggest passage of our lives, when we can no longer hear everyone's approbation?"
Bottom line, to my mind is that I don't try enough, live enough, appreciate and love enough. I try to do these things but I think I could burn much brighter than I currently do. Good intentions are worthy, but action is what brands one's life onto the universe.
I'm going to write myself a living eulogy when I pass the next decade marker, even if all I say is "Hey, I made it through another decade, emaho!"
I've never been to a funeral outside of a church ceremony so I don't know what other funerals are like. There was no body, Alexis had been cremated two weeks earlier. The hall was packed to the rafters, probably well over four hundred people were there. There had already been ceremonies with hundreds of people in Vancouver. Now it was his home town mourning his loss and applauding his life. Instead of the moment of silence they had a moment of noise, because he was just like that. Blazing larger than life.
After all the inadequate cliches and platitudes we hear around death, the ceremony was as fresh, cool and invigorating as a blast of mountain air. His life was remembered through the experiences of family, friends, and his colleagues at the radio station where he hosted a razor-edge sharp and funky show on "finding the extraordinary in the ordinary". His life was celebrated and appreciated. Songs were sung, drummers drummed, and everyone wept.
I've written eulogies for myself as part of self-help exercises, written as if I had died of ripe old age. Who would I be by then? What would I have done? The purpose of writing one is to energize people into dreaming and setting goals, even if they seem outrageous. After hearing about this young man, I thought "I hope I do half as much by the time I'm fifty" and "I hope there are more than two people at my funeral" and "Why do we do this AFTER the biggest passage of our lives, when we can no longer hear everyone's approbation?"
Bottom line, to my mind is that I don't try enough, live enough, appreciate and love enough. I try to do these things but I think I could burn much brighter than I currently do. Good intentions are worthy, but action is what brands one's life onto the universe.
I'm going to write myself a living eulogy when I pass the next decade marker, even if all I say is "Hey, I made it through another decade, emaho!"
posted by zouzou at 2:13 p.m.
3 Comments:
As your post so eloquently points out, it is not what we DO that is important, but who we ARE.
Alexis radiance and "shining bright like a star" didn't come from what he did, but from who he was... and what radiated from inside him.
You, my dear, also radiate brightly (and not just from what you're carrying inside you right now).
It's tough to contemplate our own mortality... but a good exercise. Just don't get lost in self-doubt in the process.
There is no doubt that there will be more than 2 people at your funeral. You are much loved by many.
And just for the record, I want non-stop Latin music, decadent appetizers, and lots of tequila flowing at my life celebraton, OK?!
I think the entire concept of death will change soon, as the boomers move into that phase of life (!). There will be trends and fashions surrounding all the rituals we now have. You see it starting with the videotape grave markers. Perhaps we will be able to leave a microchip of our memories for our loved ones, and interactive holograms instead of photos.
I guess that doesn't change the gist of the process, or how we will live out our lives in the interim. As long as I can have "A life well lived" as my epitaph, I'm good.
Oh, and ps - I'm holding my wake while I'm still alive, like my Uncle Don did. Don't want to miss the best damn party going on in town!
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